Mistakes
by Bookjunk
Summary: Set a couple of years in the future. Jeff is torturing himself by watching Glee, but he can't get mad about how much it sucks. He wonders why that is. Will feature a chapter about every member of the study group.
1. Annie's mistake

**Chapter 1: Annie's mistake**

During an evening of restless channel surfing, Jeff pauses on Glee. A couple of things occur to him while his soul slowly withers. First of all, how is this still on the air? Secondly, why is he exposing himself to this shit? The existence of Glee is usually enough to make him irrationally angry. Yet, despite actually _watching_ it now, he can't tap into his customary anger. He wonders why.

Wearily, he ogles the screen. The show is doing a Seal episode this week, so yeah, that's... something. He hasn't thought about that day at the mall in years. That is, however, no reason to suddenly go soft.

He glances at Annie. She is reading a book and chewing on her bottom lip. The picture of complete focus. Doesn't matter whether she is reading Twilight for the umpteenth time (to later complain to him about how weak a character Bella is) or grading papers.

It continues to amaze Jeff how into things she can be. Everything always has to be attacked with the same intense, and often scary, dedication or she simply doesn't bother. No half-assing for Annie.

Without taking her eyes off the page, she pulls a notepad across the table and scribbles down a few words. Looking at her, Jeff realises that he can't sum up any indignation over Glee's refusal to die, die, die already because he is happy. That epiphany disturbs him a little. Sue him: it is hard to get accustomed to... _emotions_. Quickly, he turns off the TV and gets up from the couch.

When he approaches her from behind – a thing he personally hates, but which Annie doesn't mind – the first thing he notices is her perfume. It is flowery and feminine without being too sweet. Annie has been wearing the same perfume for years now. It kills him that he knows this.

The next thing he notices isn't one thing at all. It is several things at once. Her hair gathered up in a ponytail. The distinct way she tilts her head when she concentrates on a specific paragraph. The nape of her neck. Her smooth skin. The gentle slope of her slender shoulders. How straight her back is. Every curve is familiar.

Taking a deep breath, he steadies himself. Nerves are unnecessary. Annie has practically told him that she wants this. Still, he's going to test the waters first. Just to be safe. He's been meaning to do that for weeks. She wants this, Jeff reminds himself. So, this should be easy, right? Probably not, but he'll take whatever non-existent comfort he can get.

'Annie?'

'Uh-huh?' she murmurs, but she isn't really paying attention. She doesn't look up when he sits down next to her.

'It's going pretty well, huh?' he asks. Annie hums in response. Not a note of a song; just a soft 'hmmm.' Jeff decides to interpret it as a sign that she agrees with him.

'I was thinking that this apartment is too small for two people and I don't know what you want to do later...'

His voice pathetically trails off, but at least it seems to register with Annie that he is trying to tell her something important. She uses a finger to mark her place on the page. Then she leans in and kisses him. Surprised, Jeff blinks.

'I don't know. See a movie?' she absentmindedly suggests, before resuming her reading. Jeff stifles a maniacal laugh. Why is he so damn nervous? He clears his throat.

'Whatever you want to do is fine with me. Either way, we could use some extra space. But if we move we'll have to do the whole thing with the cards.'

Embarrassed, he shuts up. He is rambling now. What the hell is happening? This time Annie closes her book properly and looks at him.

'You mean that I have to take care of the cards,' she surmises. For a second, he thinks that she sounds annoyed, but she adds in a lighter tone, 'That's okay; I like that.'

None of this seems to faze her at all. Maybe she doesn't understand. Maybe he should be clearer, but 'extra space' is as far as Jeff's willing to go. He seriously doubts that he can choke out the phrase 'in case we want to have kids.' All this talk of the dreaded _later_ is already freaking him out.

'We'd have to have a party too. Social convention dictates it. So, since we'd be organising a party for the moving anyway, I thought we could wrap up a few other things in one go.'

Okay, he could not be going at this in a more roundabout way, but this is actually a good suggestion. It will save them the hassle of having to deal with Troy and Abed's absurdity at multiple parties. Sometimes the line between quirky and full-blown insanity is awfully thin when it comes to their antics. Annie appears to be reasoning along similar lines, because she nods thoughtfully while she rubs at the giant watermark on the table. Last time they'd thrown a party, Troy and Abed had arrived equipped with water pistols. Why? That will forever remain a mystery to Jeff.

'We could do your birthday at the same time and mine too. Then we don't have to see those people again for a while,' he proposes. He's only half-kidding.

'Jeff! _Those people_ are our friends,' she chides him. She is smiling though. God, she looks so beautiful when she smiles. It's distracting. Determined to – eventually - get to the topic he really - well, kinda - wants to discuss, Jeff opts to resist the urge to kiss her.

'Shirley will disapprove. Of course. Again,' he points out. Annie rolls her eyes and looks adorable while doing so. He wants to know her secret, because any form of sarcasm simply makes him look mean. It is also becoming increasingly age inappropriate, especially the eye rolling.

'Because we're living in sin; delicious sin,' Annie interjects. She folds her hands in her lap and gives him the look. The look is demure, but flirty at the same time. Its intoxicating combination of fluttering eye lashes and big blue eyes makes her look all of eighteen years old. It is unsettling and a turn on. Unsettling _because_ it is a turn on. Jeff suspects that she is fully aware of this and does it to mess with him. That doesn't make it any easier to ignore, however.

'Stay on topic, Annie,' he sternly says. His voice is doing this weird wobbly thing and he could have sworn it cracked and this is fucking humiliating. He is so unprepared for this. Wouldn't it be great if he could have attended a tutorial given by some former jackass to warn unsuspecting soon-to-be-ex-jackasses?

_Folks, let me tell you something about caring. Don't do it. I used to be like you and look at me now. I'm a wreck. Having feelings all over the place. It's hell. There's still hope for you. Just say no. Save yourself._

The worst thing is that, even knowing what he knows now, he wouldn't listen. Yeah sure; caring sucks. But if he didn't care, he wouldn't have Annie. What does it matter that he can't even get through a sentence without behaving like an idiot? She's worth it.

Annie seems to know that something is up or perhaps she's just alarmed at his uncharacteristic anxiety. There's no way that this is going to sound as casual as he had in mind, but he has to get this out of the way. Otherwise he is never going to say it. Nervously, he swallows.

'While we're at it, I thought we could have an engagement party. Get that over with, as it were,' he says. He has no idea where did that stupid 'as it where' came from. A long silence follows. Annie narrows her eyes and puts her hand over his.

'Be honest,' she demands. She pauses there. For effect, Jeff thinks. His heart is racing. Then she leans closer, before inquiring, in a confidential whisper, 'Am I pregnant?'

A dry chuckle is all Jeff can manage as she pulls away. Honestly, he is surprised by how much he liked that. Not that Annie is unfunny, but under the circumstances he hadn't expected to be amused. Afraid; sure. Amused; not so much. He feels himself start to relax. Maybe this won't be so bad.

'Ha. Funny,' he responds. His voice isn't back to its reliable self yet and as a result it comes out a little sharper than intended.

'Jeff Winger, are you asking me to marry you?'

Annie sounds coy, but less playful than before. Her question is tentative. She is also staring at him as if he's not the real Jeff. That is not beyond the realm of possibility, Jeff thinks. It would seem that new Jeff, who has been in place for a while now, has zero issues with commitment. Apart from a completely understandable and healthy apprehension, obviously.

'Of course I am,' he says. That came out completely wrong. Sarcastic and mean. Fortunately, Annie isn't scared off that easily.

'You're serious. Wow, what happened to 'just nut up and die alone?'' she asks. Cringing, he remembers that moment. That was old Jeff talking. He's pretty sure that old Jeff wouldn't get within ten feet of this conversation. To be fair though; old Jeff was kind of a dick.

'We've been together for a few years now...'

'Three,' Annie interrupts.

'And I think it's going well.'

'You said that already. Yes, I was listening.'

'You're really going to make me say it, aren't you?'

'Yes.'

He glares at her. She enjoys taunting him, but he knows her. He studies her body language: her calm gaze, her smile and her still hands. Annie is an open book if you know how to read her and Jeff does. She's nervous too.

'Okay,' Jeff mumbles, steeling himself.

'Marriage is not a mutual cop out,' he drones. Unimpressed, she crosses her arms and raises an eyebrow.

'Okay, okay. Life's not too long to spend with someone else. If I get to share it with you, it will be too short,' he says. This time it sounds sincere. Annie leans closer again and he assumes he will get to hear another joke. What he gets is a way out.

'You don't have to do this. I'm staying,' she gently reminds him.

'I know that.'

There's a slight pause as Annie considers how to respond. Clearly, she has no problems with marriage. The wedding scrapbook in their bookcase attests to that. If she has a problem it must be him. Annie frowns and Jeff forgets to breathe.

'You didn't propose the way it's supposed to be done,' she very quietly remarks.

'Yeah, I don't have a ring yet either. So, what do you think?' Jeff prompts. Even though this wasn't an actual proposal, he could have handled it a lot better. It's kind of disappointing to have old defence mechanisms resurface. He thought he was past that. Luckily, Annie doesn't care. She's ecstatic. Jeff feels inexplicably relieved when she beams at him.

'Ring Schming,' she exclaims dismissively. This makes Jeff decide to go buy a ring as soon as possible. That is, if she agrees to marry him. She kisses him. It starts with an innocent kiss at the corner of his mouth. In a matter of seconds, she is in his lap. His lips press against hers. The chair groans. They both ignore it. Her tongue wets his throat. She makes these hungry little noises that should be illegal.

His arms slip around her waist, gathering her closer. He lets her ponytail slide through his fingers. Her hair is so soft. He feels that he knows everything about her. How she moves. How she feels. How she tastes. How come he doesn't know her answer? He thinks that he knows, but he isn't sure. Annie nips one last time at his throat before looking into his eyes.

'My parents said that you were a mistake, remember that? If you are, Jeff, I think that you're the best mistake I ever made. _Fiancé_,' she whispers in his ear. They smile at each other. Annie hitches her legs up and Jeff stands to carry her to the bedroom.

'Hmm, your mistake. I can live with that.'


	2. Britta's faux pas

**Chapter 2: Britta's faux pas**

It feels like one of those TV Trope thingies, he thinks. Being dropped in the middle of the action; it probably has some Latin name. Abed would know. Trying to relax, he takes another drag. Troy still doesn't understand how they got here or why she brought glitter, but here they are. Spray painting 'capitalist pigs' on a construction sign on a Friday night.

(***)

Maybe he is too early. Troy checks his watch. No, he is right on time. His tie itches. He knocks on the door again. Jeff said that it was okay to call him whenever. Troy doesn't care that he probably didn't mean that. If he feels unsure about something, he is definitely going to call Jeff. In fact, he is going to call right now about the tie.

The itching is okay; he can deal with the itching. It's just that he suddenly feels like the tie is overkill. It might seem as if he is trying too hard, which is true. But it should not be so obvious. If he's fast he can still ditch it. He is in the middle of yanking at the knot when Britta opens the door.

'Hi. Come on in.'

She has already crossed into the living room by the time he has decided it might be best just to tell her about his tie-related doubts. His subsequent attempts to straighten the tie fail, because it adamantly refuses to cooperate. Too late to do anything about that now. Tugging at the tie, he follows her inside. Britta's place is the same as he remembers. Messier, but essentially the same.

'Wow, you look handsome,' she exclaims, winking at him.

'You too. Pretty, I mean. You are pretty. I got you flowers,' Troy rambles, thrusting the bouquet at her. Britta always looks pretty. It doesn't look as if she's put any extra effort into it tonight though. She's got on a familiar pair of faded jeans, a black t-shirt and sneakers.

The bouquet is small and comprised of the sort of flowers you would find at the side of the road. Not that he picked them from the side of the road. She is totally gonna think I picked them from the side of the road, Troy realises.

'I bought them,' he explains. He thinks about adding 'in a shop,' but wisely shuts his mouth.

'Thank you,' she slowly says. It seems as if she wants to add something, but instead she frowns and shakes her head. Troy helps her find a vase in the kitchen and wanders back into the living room while she arranges the flowers. There's a large handbag on the living room table. It is really huge. Before he can peek inside, Britta zips it shut and hoists it onto her shoulder.

'Let's go,' she beams.

Troy runs through the evening so far while they take the elevator down. He can't decide whether it is going well or not. To prepare, he had watched Firefly, but the charm of Captain Mal Reynolds didn't exactly translate to real life. Maybe he should have chosen to imitate Gunn or Tony Stark: they were much smoother.

As Britta enthusiastically tells him about her latest activist project – an animal shelter that is scheduled to be converted into luxury condos – on their way to the parking lot, her bag rattles ominously. Its size remains impressive. It's as if she's planning to spend a weekend with him. That would be awesome, but he doubts that is the reason why the bag is so enormous. What has she got in there?

It soon becomes clear that he shouldn't have gone through the trouble of cleaning his own car, because apparently they're taking hers to... wherever they're going. Britta seems to know exactly what their destination is.

The drive doesn't very take long. It is dark outside. When they get out of the car, he tries to ask where they are and what they are going to do, but he catches Britta stealthily looking around. Concerned about her behaviour, Troy surveys their surroundings. Behind a closed gate stands a big soon-to-be-coming luxury condos sign of doom.

'What are...' he asks, but she shushes him and pushes him towards the gate.

'Help me up,' she whispers. Without thinking about it, he holds out his hands. She begins to climb him. This should be hot hot hot, Troy thinks, but it's really not not not. Trying not to lose his balance, he steadies himself against the gate while Britta scales the top. Her weight is gone as suddenly as it was there. He glances around and waits for her to reach the ground on the other side.

'Britta, are you alright?'

'I'm fine. Hurry up,' she replies. He looks at the gate for a while, until he finally decides to use the padlock to get over it. His arms get a nice workout as he lowers himself to the other side, but it doesn't matter, since it's so dark that Britta most likely can't see it. Out of nowhere, the beam of a flashlight hits him in the face.

'I got one for you too,' Britta whispers. To his relief, she quickly aims the beam at the ground. After a few seconds, he manages to get his flashlight to work. Its light illuminates the contents of Britta's giant bag.

Surprise: it is full of cans of various colours of spray paint. It also contains stencils of letters and, curiously, a cigar box stuffed with glitter.

While Troy is busy staring at the bag, Britta sparks up a cigarette. It smells strange in the dark. He has a craving for a cigarette too, but he remembers one of his nana's rules. No chocolates before dinner.

'Here, hold this.'

Britta hands him her cigarette, which he only now realises is not a normal cigarette. Since he is kind of anxious about the upcoming vandalism, he takes a drag. That leads to about two minutes of solid coughing, during which he can't possibly look cool. What's worse is that he is starting to suspect that Britta doesn't know that they're on a date.

(***)

'Wanna go do something this weekend? Just you and me?'

'Sure. Friday?'

(***)

Still coughing, Troy takes another drag. He isn't sure if he really said 'just you and me' out loud. Without that part, it doesn't sound like someone asking someone else out on a date at all. It sounds like two friends hanging out. Honestly, even _with_ that part, it isn't obvious that he means for it to be a date. He should have used the word 'date' right there in the question. He should have been clearer.

'How about Jeff's surprise, huh?' Troy says. He immediately regrets it. Shit. Does Britta know? Is he allowed to tell her?

'What surprise?'

'Never mind,' he mumbles. He kneels next to the bag and selects a few colours he likes. Britta has meanwhile arranged the stencils in order. They spell 'capitls g' because she's only got one stencil for every letter. Troy hands the cigarette back, but feels Britta's gaze linger on him.

'The proposal? Don't worry, he told me,' Britta reassures him. She sighs. 'Jeff and Annie getting married... seems weird, right?'

'Yeah,' he admits. He wishes he could see her face right now. She offers him the cigarette again; he declines. They get to work. He holds the stencils and lights the spot and she sprays. Britta explains that the stencils are part of why her former activist friends think she is not enough of an anarchist. Troy argues that spray painting slogans isn't very useful when no one can read them. He thinks she smiles at that.

Britta provides the finishing touch by sprinkling glitter on the wet paint while she tells him a about all the times she has gotten arrested. These are not comforting stories, because 1) they're doing something illegal and 2) hello: black, but that is not what is distracting him from keeping a lookout. It is inappropriate considering they're not on a date – or at least Britta doesn't know that they are – but he can't resist the opportunity to check out her ass.

'Hey! What are you two doing?'

Startled, Troy drops his flashlight. Britta, on the other hand, swivels and shines hers right in the police officer's eyes.

'Run,' she urges and they're off. The guy didn't look fit, Troy reasons. He is scared, but somehow it also feels wonderful. It is difficult to see where they're going, but they manage to get to the gate. It's open and they dash into the street. Behind them, heavy footsteps fall and they continue to run, forgetting about the car. Britta pulls him into an alley.

'Is he gone?' she asks, breathlessly. It sounds sexy. Carefully, Troy ducks his head out and back into the alley. Unable to speak just yet, he leans against the wall, panting. After a few seconds, he answers.

'I think so.'

Trying to catch their breath, they start to laugh. The moon has broken through the clouds for the first time that evening. Aware of how close they are, he stares at her. Every sound they make is magnified in the empty alley. Troy moves a little closer and suddenly they lunge at each other. It's a lot like their first kiss, except it doesn't stop after that initial contact. Also, he hasn't accidentally tricked her into it by making up creepy stories about his uncle.

Something about their kiss kind of confuses him. Shoving tongues down each other's throats: it's clumsy. That doesn't make sense, because Troy has kissed many girls. And he's pretty sure that Britta has too. Not girls, but guys. Anyway, it feels as if neither of them has any experience whatsoever,

Fingers get tangled in hair and have to be removed. Limbs bump into other limbs. One time, Troy grazes her boob and while that's nice, it's also _not_ what he meant to do. Finally, after a couple of minutes of frantic groping and clutching, they break apart.

There's glitter in Britta's hair and paint on her shirt. She is perfect. Troy smiles at her and she awkwardly returns the smile.

'You wanna go see Avengers 3?' she suggests. He wants to say 'hell yeah' and tell her about how awesome it is going to be because Joss Whedon is directing it again and how the second movie was almost as great as the first tone, thanks to Joss Whedon, but he can only nod, because right then and there, Troy realises that he is in love with Britta.


End file.
